


Traditions

by Paia_Loves_Pie



Series: Christmas Cookies [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Snippets, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paia_Loves_Pie/pseuds/Paia_Loves_Pie
Summary: Greg has a yearly Christmas tradition. Mycroft doesn't protest...much.





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> My heartfelt thanks to bigblueboxat221b and bookjunkiecat for immediately encouraging my folly when I said I wanted to write a thing.

Mycroft noticed it immediately as he stepped in the door - of course he did. He staked his career on noticing everything. To tell the truth, he had expected its appearance days ago but Mycroft supposed that Greg’s recent triple homicide case had delayed the usual timeline of its annual installment above the kitchen entryway. 

“Is that you, love?” Greg called to him from the next room. 

Mycroft heard Greg’s soft stocking steps approach him around the corner. Mycroft smiled, and edged backward from the lintel, just a little. He held out his hand to Greg and drew him within his reach, gently winding his arms around his waist, just so, as they met in the threshold. 

He tucked his nose down into the side of Greg’s shirt collar and inhaled, drawing in the warm air. A pavlovian comfort wound into his primitive brain as his muscles settled, easing his body to restfulness after a long day. The solid warmth of their chests pressing together prompted another deep inhale, and Greg huffed a small laugh as Mycroft’s exhale tickled his neck. Greg’s hand snuck around under Mycroft’s suit jacket to deliver a small rub in the small of his back, ruffling the cotton of his dress shirt. With his arms wound tight around his partner, Greg looked up above their heads and then favored Mycroft with a smug smile. 

“You know what time it is, love.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Yes, yes. Let’s get it over with, then,” Mycroft grumbled good naturedly.

“Happy Christmas,” Greg said softly, dipping his chin for a gentle peck on Mycroft’s lips.

“Happy Christmas, Treasure,” Mycroft returned, going back for a few more kisses under the mistletoe. 

“So..” Greg’s soft smile quirked roguishly to the side as his hands dipped downwards from Mycroft’s back to fill with a pleasing handful. “Should I open my present now?”

Mycroft squeezed his arms tighter and returned to Greg’s neck, scraping his teeth gently down the side. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Now where did we put that naughty advent calendar?”


End file.
